


Grace

by july_19th_club



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death Fix-It, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It, M/M, Reciprocated Confession, Resurrection, eleven hours?, lookit that. i made a fixit. and it only took me wat, you all know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:49:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/july_19th_club/pseuds/july_19th_club
Summary: A man dies. What happens next will shock you.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 61
Kudos: 515





	Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Took me the devil's own time to format this on here for accessibility's sake (and get a proper link to the original formatting). It's happy ending, but I think it functions best if you go in with as little detail as possible. Wrote it like a screenplay, had a lot of fun doing that - if you want to see the original formatting, please visit the link. Comments appreciated! Hope you enjoy.

**[link to original formatting on PDF - anyone with link can view :) ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/0scqdwnw9hvxee7/flavorful%20soup.pdf?dl=0) **

**EXT. MIDDAY. BRIGHT, WATERY SUN ON A PARKING LOT TAKEN UP MOSTLY BY A CANOPY TENT, WHITE TARP OVER FIVE OR SO FOLDING TABLES. BAKED GOODS SET OUT, GINGHAM PLASTIC TABLECLOTHS, A SMALL CROWD MILLING. LITTLE BIT OF MUSIC - RADIO? IT'S DIEGETIC BUT ONLY BARELY.['FUNERAL BELL' BY PHILDEL](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ylv1_BnD4Q).**

The boys are seated at one of the tables, Dean eating distractedly, Sam with phone propped up against salt shaker. 

  
**SAM**  
 _(signing)_  
Next week maybe? I'll ask.  
 _(aside to Dean)_  
What time you wanna head out? 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(absently)_  
...that Eileen?

  
 **SAM**  
You know anybody else I video chat in ASL? She wants to know if we're headed out her way or not. 

  
**DEAN**  
Sure. Whatever you wanna do.

  
 **SAM**  
You sure? Because it's not, you know, pressing. She just wondered -  
 _(glancing at screen)_  
\- oh, she's asking how you're doing. 

  
Dean briefly looks up from his plate. It's still mostly full; looks like a lovingly-baked rhubarb custard tart is going to waste today. We see his face fully for the first time in the scene. The man is haggard. Unshaven, dark circles, the works. He smiles tightly and waves at the phone screen. 

  
**SAM**  
She says, 'that bad huh'? 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(irritated)_  
What, are you guys talking about me behind my back or something? That what you're doing now? Swear to-

  
 **SAM**  
No, that's not what we're...okay, but only because...look, I think people, you know, your _friends_ , might want to know how you're doing. There's nothing wrong with that. If someone asks me, I'm gonna tell them. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(brusquely)_  
Well, tell 'em I'm fine. Nothin' wrong with me some good food and a minute without your nosy asses fussing around won't fix.   
_(raising coffee cup)_  
Doin' just fine.

  
Sam doesn't even dignify this with a response, just an aside glance. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Dean picks at his plate, Sam continues his conversation with Eileen. They reach some decision, he says goodbye (in a sweet gesture, using the 'waving a *love you*' sign) and turns off the video. 

  
**SAM**  
We could wait a few weeks before we head out there. She's gonna stay put for a bit, put some feelers out. She's got this idea for a sort of casual network - almost like what Ellen used to have, you remember that? Anyway, I think it's a good idea and she'd like our input, but if you want to put it off and - 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(suddenly)_  
You know what? Go ahead. Just go see her, you want to. I'm fine here, just...I'm not stopping you from leaving for a bit. 

  
**SAM**  
 _(clearly not expecting to hear this; splitting up is still as big a deal as it ever was)_  
Just...leave you here? On your own? 

  
**DEAN**  
I _want_ some time to myself, okay? 

Pause. Finally - 

  
**SAM**  
No offense, but I really don't think that's a good idea right now. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(somehow making it seem like he's a little bit scandalized)_  
Seriously? What do you think I'm gonna do, Sammy? 

  
**SAM**  
 _Nothing_ , okay, I just - I don't think it's a good idea for you to wallow around - 

  
**DEAN**  
I'm not _wallowing_ -

  
 **SAM**  
Yeah, you are, for you this is wallowing, and just the other day you were saying you just wanted to get back to normal, so which is it? Do you want some time alone to process or do you want to just, I don't know, go find a job or something? Like, would a hunt really take your mind off things? 

  
**DEAN**  
My mind's not _on_ things. I'm sick - you know what? - I'm sick of your fussing, okay? Yeah, a hunt would be good. 

  
Sam weighs this. Giving Dean time to himself will allow him the space to deal with his emotions, but Sam knows (and we know) that this isn't what will happen. You can almost see the math in Sam's head: Dean + alone time + beer in house = absolutely no coming to terms with anything. Dean + Sam + hunt + hours-long car rides = can keep an eye on him; might force conversation if the drive gets boring enough. 

  
**SAM**  
Okay. Hunt it is.   
_(standing up, he gives his brother a brief squeeze on the shoulder)_  
Finish your pie. 

  
**END SCENE.**

  
**INT. DARK. PRE-DAWN, SO LATE AT NIGHT IT'S ALMOST TOMORROW. WE'VE SKIPPED PAST THE INTERVENING SCENES BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT RELEVANT TO OUR NARRATIVE EXCEPT THAT THEY GET US HERE - AN OVERHEAD SHOT OF A DIM STRAW-SCATTERED FLOOR, WHERE ONCE AGAIN, ONE OF OUR HEROES IS DYING.**

SAM hunched over, applying pressure, for all the good it'll do. It's all been so sudden; but in the back of his mind he's kicking himself. Of course they shouldn't have hunted so soon. Of course. Man who takes risks at the best of times loses someone so close, someone he can't even define himself in relation to except that it's too much not to have. Man who almost jumps at the chance to put himself back in some dangerous situation. What did Sam think was going to happen? 

  
**SAM**  
 _(to himself more than anything)_  
Come on, come on, you're okay, come on, look, you're okay, you're gonna be - 

  
DEAN, meanwhile, is past talking. Visibly scared, hand fluttering over the wound. No matter how many times it's happened, it never gets any easier, dying. That's something they don't tell you. We see his mouth twitch a little - is he laughing? Maybe not, but it's hard to tell what _else_ that expression could mean. Unplanned, maybe, the events of tonight. But not unwelcome. Kinda funny when you get down to it. What else was he going to do with his life? 

Beat. We realize belatedly that there is no background music, that Sam has stopped talking, and that Dean has just...stopped. Tableau frozen for a second: we've been here before. So many times. Some dark haunt, someone's body on the ground, TFW fractured and bereft. Somehow it always comes down to the same couple of elements. We pan around in a circle, slowly, taking in the details. This one's different - not tangibly, just a little more dimly felt. Feels less like an event and more like the culmination of a formula or a pattern. It has to happen, so that what comes next can begin. 

Our slow pan takes us from the bloody hands around behind Sam's bowed head and again back to the face of the deceased. The score finally kicks back in with a faraway cello, spare, tasteful - as Dean blinks. \

He sits, then stands. He moves easily, unhurt. Clearly a little stumped, he puts a hand to his chest, but there's no evidence of a wound. He does notice something weird, though - he's wearing a pendant, its gold finish wearing off from age. He touches it absentmindedly, fiddles with it a bit as he looks around. Still dark, but there are faint voices now audible against the thin soundtrack, growing louder and busier around him. Suddenly we find him in a crowd, so dense it's hard to tell what the crowd's in. Are they indoors? Outdoors? Looking up, he sees fog, but enough light that there could be a sun, or a ceiling, up there. The environment's not particularly dark, just...featureless. And all round, endlessly, a crushing mill of people, all ages, sexes, races. Most of them are very distressed. They ask each other questions, yell for help, for someone to pay attention to them, for an explanation. The noise becomes almost deafening, the closeness unbearable. We see Dean buffeted here and there, occasionally in his confusion nearly pushed down before starting and moving in the direction he's pushed. 

It's never the same, Hell. He's seen it as a torture chamber, a bureaucracy, an eternal DMV. He opens his mouth, it looks like he might be about to add his own voice to the endless shout, but after a moment he thinks better and closes it. He's not such a greenhorn that he hasn't already figured out it won't make a damn bit of difference. So he starts moving. Pushing others aside, aiming - or trying to aim - in a single direction, to get to the edge of the crowd. He's not the only one; we pan up to a wide shot that establishes dozens of other denizens trying to muscle their way out of the scrimmage. The further up we go, the more obvious it becomes that there's no point - the sea of bodies is endless, becoming obscured by clouds or smoke or...something as we rise. Those seekers aren't getting anywhere. 

Except...this one has something the others don't. He knows where he's trying to go. We cut back to Dean, who's half-sprinting now when he can, during thinner spots in the crowd. Purpose in his eyes. He runs until he's out of breath, stops, gasps for a moment. Then we see his brows rise, something's occurred to him.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(aloud mostly out of habit)_  
...I don't need to breath.

  
He starts running again. At one point he closes his eyes. We see him from the back now, pushing past bodies, head down, moving faster. The camera closes in until we're right behind him and can barely see his surroundings, and then he stops. Eyes still closed, we focus on profile: he has braced his hands up against a wall. We're at the edge.

Behind him, the crowd still mills; they don't seem to realize there _is_ a wall, and to be sure, it doesn't look like your traditional physical barrier. It's more like frosted glass, and only visible from our angle because we're bisecting it, cross-section style. On the other side is pure darkness. But Dean just sees fog, his palms resting on thin air that has suddenly gone solid. He fumbles a bit, like a mime doing the box thing. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(almost smiling)_  
 _Not_ fucking funny.

  
But this is it. He's aimed himself in a direction, and against all odds, has found himself at his destination. He knows what's on the other side. We all do. 

  
**DEAN**  
Okay, if you're in there...uh, give us a shout, huh? 

  
Silence. We don't cut back to the blackness on the other side. Just one guy standing in front of a foggy cessation of location, talking to it like an asshole. 

  
**DEAN**  
Look, I'm here, okay? I'm here. Took me a minute, but, uh...well. Open up. I'm coming in.

  
Still just an asshole standing in front of an invisible wall. He shoves his hands in his pockets. 

  
**DEAN**  
C'mon, let's, uh...make a door here, huh? Can we do that? Okay. I need a door.   
_(talking-to-a-particularly-dense-customer-voice)_  
I need to go...into the place... that's past...this wall. _I'm_ on _this_ side, I _need_ to be on _that_ side.

  
Still just a wall, bud.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(looking up, maybe appealing to whoever the management is these days)_  
 _Hello?_ I don't care if you keep me in there forever, I'm trying to get _in?_ I'm thrilled to be here, okay? Is that what you need? It would make me very happy to go into the Empty, okay? Just...just let me...let me get over there.   
_(increasingly loud and irritated)_  
What, am I in the wrong spot? Is that not Empty over there? Because I know I'm not in the wrong spot, okay. I can _feel_ it. It's- over - _there_.   
_(pointing, sternly, at the invisible wall)_  
And I - _refuse_ \- to believe you can't let me go in there if I want to, alright? You're _Hell_ , if you want me to suffer just ... send me ... in ...

  
The penny drops. He wants to go in, and it _is_ Hell. The point of which is, well, suffering. If he wants something that badly, it'll by definition be withheld. He throws a hand back out, seemingly scared the wall will disappear now that he's figured this out. It's still there. He places both hands on it again, as if to secure his hold on the doorway. Takes a stance, bracing his arms and planting his feet. The ground is as indistinguishable as the rest of the environment, but it seems to help. He sets his jaw. Looks like he's going to have to find this out the hard way.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(mumbling)_  
BlessmeCastielforI am...uh. Breaking into double hell. If you can...if you can hear me in there. I'm coming in. You wanna help a guy out? It's me, okay, I'm here for you. I'm here. Come on. Let's make a door here, okay? Open up. Open up. Open up. 

  
We see him in profile again, pressing his forehead to the wall, which becomes more clear to us in its frosted-glass way. He's still speaking quietly to himself. 

  
**DEAN**  
Let me in. Let me in. Let me _in. Let me in. Let -_

  
In an instant, we cut from the foggy crowded environment into something altogether different. He stumbles, there's nothing for his hands or face to lean against anymore, and for the first time we see the dark place on the other side of the wall clearly.

  
It's quite boring, really. Just a big...dark... _place._ If there's a ceiling, it's too high and too dark to see. If there are walls, they're too far away. There's a floor, and there's something like a light source, but the floor is as dark as the walls and the light is from nowhere in particular. Honestly, if you've seen the upside down, it looks a little bit like that. Really it's a coin-flip to the chaos outside; if there is too much happening there to make anything out, there is too little here. Even in total silence, there seems to be an echo. And at first, he seems to be alone. 

  
**DEAN**  
Come on. Where are you?

  
And without anything really seeming different, we see CAS. It's as if we've just had the camera facing in the wrong direction, and he was possibly there right from the start, we just didn't see him. He doesn't look that different from usual, except that there's a sort of stunned, distracted, awed look on his face. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(still a little discombobulated)_  
H - how'd you do that?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(baffled, softly)_  
...I didn't.

  
 **DEAN**  
What do you - what do you m - you didn't bring me in?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(staring, hardly blinking)_  
I didn't even know you were here.

  
They stand and watch each other for a moment, and in a wide shot we see that they are each about as close to the edge of the light as possible, at opposite ends of its reach. It's not far, maybe ten feet at a stretch, but it's far enough. Neither seems to know what to do next.

  
 **CAS**  
 _(realizing)_  
Why... _are_ you here?

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(playing it off)_  
Well, you know how it goes. Got a little careless, I guess, but - I mean, we never...  
 _(awkward laugh)_  
...never finished our talk. Did we?

  
 **CAS**  
I told you everything, Dean. Everything that was left.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _You_ left before I - look, I - you could've - how long have we known each other?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(slowly)_  
A long time. But I must ask again, how are you here?

  
Dean steps closer, still distracted. They're both focusing on a different thing here, but Cas mirrors his movement and they get a step closer to understanding.

  
 **DEAN**  
I...you know. I just...I was on the outside, and I prayed, and you...I mean, I _thought_ it was you...I just prayed. It wasn't you?

  
 **CAS**  
This place, it...it doesn't work like that. 

  
**DEAN**  
Hang on, you're - you're saying you're, what, powerless in here?

  
**CAS**   
_(somewhat exasperated, ye dads the man can be slow on the uptake)_   
_Yes._

  
**DEAN**  
So you didn't help me.

  
 **CAS**  
No. 

  
A step closer. Camera circles as they figure this out, just inside the light. No score, just the soft echo of their feet on the floor. 

  
**DEAN**  
So who did?

  
 **CAS**  
I think it was you.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(visible-math-meme dot.jpg)_  
...you're trying to tell me I was praying to...what, _myself?_ Come on, Cas, I just...Rowena took pity on my sorry ass, or...or you did it without realizing it, or...something. 

  
**CAS**  
 _(patiently - more patiently than he ever ought to be, but always is)_  
Or, you did. 

  
Closer still. Inches away now. 

  
**DEAN**  
No, come on, I...what does that even mean? What do you even call that?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(that beatific, blue-eyed smile)_  
A miracle.

  
Some kind of spell breaks, and the space closes at last; they embrace. It's cathartic - tight squeezing, faces buried in shoulders, a bit of rocking back and forth, the whole bit. When they finally pull apart - 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(a bit teary-eyed)_  
W- what do you - what do you mean, Cas, I - 

  
**CAS**  
 _(not so composed himself)_  
You know, you've always underestimated your own power of faith. Maybe...maybe you were the last thing left to pray to. 

  
Dean doesn't know what to say to this, but he presses his forehead to Cas's. He doesn't know what he's just done, or what to do next, but they're here. Cas is solid and real and in front of him, and he's made it here. 

  
**DEAN**  
So...um, so I died.

  
 **CAS**  
 _(dryly)_  
I gathered that.

  
 **DEAN**  
I'm sorry. I know you didn't want that, I - I'm sorry I wasn't listening. For all that time. You could've said it sooner. Before you stared making deals with hell. Or, or sometime, fuck, I don't know. Why didn't you...why didn't you say something sooner?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(pulling back a bit, can't believe he's being asked this)_  
Have you - have you met yourself?

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(shaky laughter)_  
Okay. Okay. I deserve that. I just, I don't want you to, I don't want to to think -  
He takes a second. Stops talking. Doesn't exactly compose himself, but manages to look Cas in the eye. 

  
**DEAN**  
I don't want you to think it's just you, man, because it's not...  
Beat. Realizes what he's just said. 

  
**DEAN**  
It's not just you. May- maybe - maybe it hasn't been for...for a while.

  
They're still mid-embrace, he's still clasping Cas's arms. He seems to look down at himself, reassess a bit. There's a moment where you can see him almost move to step away, to brush himself off, to tug on his jacket and shuffle back to normalcy, to distance. Then he looks back up. His eyes shine. 

  
**DEAN**  
Huh. Funny.

  
 **CAS**  
What is?

  
 **DEAN**  
Nothing, I just...I just didn't know any of that, until...look, you were gone, and I - somehow I just - I knew it was for good this time, and I - I couldn't _do_ anything, I couldn't _think_ anything, I was...I wasn't even a mess, I wasn't...anything, you were just gone...

  
Cas waits patiently. 

  
**DEAN**  
I...I love you. I'm sorry. For everything else. 

  
No talking for a moment, just holding each other - holding each other together, really. Because it's been said, and they're both without illusions...but they're both also in the deepest, loneliest bowels of hell, and neither of them wants to be the person to ask what comes next. 

  
Then we hear it. From a distance, very faintly - the clamor of overlapping voices that is the outer environment, the noise of the crowd. Cas starts - this is potentially the first he's heard of the outside; aside from Dean's abrupt arrival the first thing he's heard besides himself in all the time he's been here. He reaches out without looking and grasps Dean's sleeve; Dean automatically puts an arm more securely around his shoulders. 

  
**DEAN**  
You hear that?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(quietly)_  
...yes...

  
He seems to be formulating some theory, he opens his mouth to speak, looks at Dean, frowns. He might think Dean is making this happen, but he is clearly hesitant to suggest it. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(abruptly)_  
So do you wanna see if I can do it backwards?

  
Cas is silent, but smiles. Dean shrugs.

  
 **DEAN**  
I mean, I figure...you know. Third time's a charm, right? You get me out, we get each other out. I get you out. 

  
**CAS**  
I suppose there's a logic in that. A very... _human_ logic, and I don't get it, but...

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(shaking his hands out as if doing some kind of warmup)_  
Better hold onto me, I think. 

  
Cas holds his elbow like they're going to prom together.

  
 **DEAN**  
Here goes nothing. 

  
He braces his hands against empty air and closes his eyes, seems to be feeling for something. His head turns this way and that, slowly. The voices grow fainter, then louder again. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(under his breath)_  
C'mon, baby, c'mon...let me out...let _us_ out...you were there before, c'mon...don't wimp out on me now, c'mon...

  
The darkness, slowly but surely, begins to fade. Arm in arm, color leaching back into their surroundings, they leave the empty place and are instantly near-trampled by the oblivious, panicked masses in the outer hell. Dean doesn't see Cas's reaction, but we do - and he's not looking at any of these people or trying to figure out where they are. He watches Dean like he's just found religion. Again. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(rubbing his hands together)_  
Huh. How 'bout that.  
 _(turning to Cas)_  
You ready to do your part and help me blow this pop - 

  
There's a man standing in front of them, distinct somehow against the constantly changing figures around them. JACK.

  
 **DEAN**  
...sicle...stand...

  
 **JACK**  
Dean?

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(both desperate and firm)_  
Don't you _dare_ hold me up, sonnyboy, because I tell you what, I'm _not_ in the - 

  
**JACK**  
...mood?

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(somewhat sheepishly)_  
Uh, yeah. 

  
**JACK**  
Wasn't intending to. But - well, I'm a little confused.

  
 **DEAN**  
No you're not, you know everything.

  
He puts his hands on his hips, as if that settles it. Cas is still holding him by the elbow. They look somewhat diminished at the moment, kids caught sneaking back home after curfew. 

  
**JACK**  
I don't know why something that ought to be in my house is down here. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(indignant)_  
You said you couldn't get him back! Don't gimme that 'I don't know' bullshit.

  
 **JACK**  
 _(nonplussed, which is tough for a godling)_  
...I didn't mean him.

  
Cas makes a 'look, what did I say' face. Dean double takes.

  
 **DEAN**  
Well, I'm not goin' to your house, either. I didn't intend to die.

  
 **JACK**  
You didn't try not to.

  
 **DEAN**  
Well? And you didn't _stop_ me. 

  
**CAS**  
 _(to Jack, butting in)_  
He is, isn't he? He has it, doesn't he?

  
Dean turns back to him, but doesn't get an explanation. Jack reaches out, places a quick hand against his face, resting it briefly against his cheek before drawing it away again.

  
 **JACK**  
...huh. I guess so.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(voice like a guy who's just been told to sit down after some blood tests)_  
Somebody wanna tell me what's going on? What do I have? 

  
**JACK**  
Something...new. Don't worry, I think you're gonna be fine. But I don't think I'm gonna spoil the surprise. I think you wanna figure this one out on your own.

  
 **DEAN**  
What? Why? Cas? Are you gonna -

  
While they're looking at each other, we see Jack wave a hand. They blink, turn back to him looking a little bit dazed, and we know they've got no recollection of the past three minutes' worth of conversation.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(a bit sheepishly)_  
...uh, _Jack._ Fancy running into you here.

  
 **JACK**  
 _(briskly)_  
Why don't you see yourselves out. You don't belong here. 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(clearly expecting to have to put up more of a fight)_  
Uh...okay? That's it? You just want us to...go?

  
 **JACK**  
Yeah. Go on. Get. So I can get back to work?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(picking his jaw up off the floor quicker than Dean)_  
Of course. We'll do that.

  
Jack disappears before they've even turned away. They walk through the crowd. Neither asks the other where they're going; they both seem to be clear on the destination. At some point, as they get further away from the camera, they both reach down at the same time and clasp hands. And like that, together, they walk out of Hell again. 

**END SCENE.**

  
**INT. BAR** **N. MORNING. SUN STARTING TO POUR THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE PLANK WALLS. SCENE EXACTLY AS WE LAST LEFT IT:**

Dean's body, face-up and very dead on the floor. The blood has gone from spreading to sticky. Sam is still sitting where we last saw him, and it's hard to tell what he's thinking, if anything. His big, awkward body is crumpled in on itself, he has drawn his arms around his knees and his face is hidden behind some (pretty emo-looking) sheets of hair. He might be asleep, out of exhaustion if nothing else. He looks like he's not planning on moving ever again.

  
Dean's eyes are closed now - Sam, probably - but they open as we focus in on his face. For a brief second, before he's quite _here_ yet, something glows at the hollow of his throat - white-hot, shining out from within. _He has it, doesn't he?_

  
Grace. No one else's but his own.

  
He sits up without preamble, as if he's just had a nice little nap and is ready to get on with his day. He notes his bloodstained shirt, the fact that he's been lying in it and it's probably all over his pants and coat too. Looks a little bothered, but otherwise really quite relaxed for a man who just died and resurrected for the umpteenth time. 

  
**DEAN**  
Sammy. Hey, c'mon. Probably on his way, let's go.

  
**SAM**   
_(startled, waking up)_   
_Dean._

  
**DEAN**  
 _(almost shockingly cheery)_  
That's m' name, don't wear it out!

  
 **SAM**  
 _Dean..._ holy shit, Dean...

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(a little impatient)_  
C'mon, okay, I don't know where he touched down but we gotta get a move on, I don't wanna hang around any longer than we have -

  
Sam, interrupting him, incites one of those rib-crushing hugs that would be dangerous to smaller men. We see that Dean is actually lifted a little bit up off the floor.

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(manages to pat Sam on the back, remembering he's a recent resurrectee for the first time)_  
Oh, _shit,_ Sammy, I'm sorry. C'mon, I'm not trying to rush ya, but we gotta go meet him, and I'm gonna have to find him first...

  
He bustles around, picking up weapons off the floor, casting a despairing glance at his own bloody accoutrement, brushing himself off uselessly, searching his pockets for keys. Sam, stunned, wordlessly hands them over.

  
 **DEAN**  
Thanks. Come on, bud, hustle.

  
Sam, actually jogging to keep up, follows Dean across the barn floor, out to the car, and climbs in as Dean, door still half open, starts her up. 

  
**SAM**  
 _(helplessly)_  
Should you...should you be driving right now? 

  
**DEAN**  
Yeah, man, I'm fine. Look, keep an eye out while we go, willya? He might be close.

  
 **SAM**  
Dean. What 'he'?

  
 **DEAN**  
 _('duh, keep up' voice)_  
Cas? 

  
**SAM**   
_(incredulous)_   
_Cas??_

  
**DEAN**  
Yeah, we figured we'd probably pop up close by but it's a little hard to aim, you know what I mean?

  
 **SAM**  
No. No, I don't. Dean. You were dead. Dead. Okay? Like, _dead?_ Do you get that?

  
 **DEAN**  
Yeeeup. Typical Tuesday. You wanna keep an eye out, _please?_

  
They drive at a steady clip, the sun pouring down so brightly it's a little hard to see. Sam shakes his head, still not quite sure exactly what's happening. But he's the first to spot the figure in the middle of the dirt road as they round a bend of trees and make it onto an open stretch, fields wide with wildflowers on both sides.

  
 **SAM**  
Dean, what the fu-

  
Dean pulls the car to a screeching halt, flings the door open, barely makes it a foot before Cas, already running, coat flying, slams right into him. They spin in place, dust still settling behind the Impala. Sam, from inside the car, blinks, shakes his head, blinks again. 

  
**SAM**  
Guys, _what_ \- _how_ did - 

  
They barely realize he's there. Dean reaches out, hand in Cas's hair, checking again. Real. Here. Real. And here. We see Cas tip his head back to the high sun and grin into it. 

  
**DEAN**  
There you are.

**CAS**  
 _(taking in the extent of the mess)_  
You're all right?

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(grinning)_  
I'm pretty good. What now?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(train of thought stops in its tracks)_  
...

  
 **DEAN**  
You didn't even think about that, did ya?

  
 **CAS**  
...I suppose not. 

  
**DEAN**  
Because Sam's girlfriend's got this idea. You and me could just - I mean, we could tag along for the ride. Or, you know, we could - you remember that bar?

  
 **CAS**  
Which one?

  
 **DEAN**  
Haha. Very funny. I guess you wouldn't anyway, huh? Burnt down before I met you. You think you could stand to run a bar?

  
Cas looks a little stunned now. Back for barely five minutes, and already he's being thrown for a loop. 

  
**CAS**  
Do you...do you not want to hunt?

  
 **DEAN**  
I mean, there's more than one way to hunt, right? The people gotta eat. And drink, as the case may be.

  
Sam, from inside the car, catches snatches of this conversation, and realizes what's happening even if Dean and Cas don't. We see him surreptitiously pull out his phone - not that he needs to be surreptitious, since neither of them are paying him an ounce of attention. We read his text as he composes it, to Eileen: _can you manage one more guest for dinner? Incidentally: your thoughts on home bases that double as revenue streams? Think my brother's about to start nesting._

  
 **SAM**  
 _(to himself, but not unhappily)_  
Never gonna get that degree at this rate.

  
Meanwhile, outside: 

  
**DEAN**  
 _(two inches from Cas's face, cheeky)_  
Hey, check this out. I'm gonna do something I've never done before, you ready?

  
 **CAS**  
 _(now who's slow on the uptake)_  
What am I getting ready for?

  
 **DEAN**  
 _(kisses him - just a peck really)_  
That.

  
It is Cas who pulls him back in, and a few notes start to play as they get close again: [Dusty Springfield's "Son of A Preacher Man".](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjydOI4MEIw) And then we're seeing it: The Kiss, Trademark, with all the bells and whistles. It's warm, it's gentle, it's weighted with the force of years, seems to anchor them both not to the ground but to one another; hands are on lapels, eyes are closed, breaths are taken in gasps between different angles of the kiss, and Dusty gets louder and more triumphant as we pan up and watch them from above. Sam, quietly, opens his door and vacates the shotgun seat for the back row. Angels - born and made - swap spit in anywhere, America, and that's as much a miracle as anything else could be. We get another good shot of their faces, still deeply involved in the kissing, then Dusty sings us up into the big blue sky and beyond. 

  
Credits start rolling. And Dusty fades into Kansas one last time. We carry on.  
 **FADE TO BLACK. FIN.**


End file.
